


Disconnections

by Caryn_B



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9628814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caryn_B/pseuds/Caryn_B
Summary: Luke is keeping something from Han and it's threatening to destroy their friendship. On the eve of going their separate ways they attempt to breach the growing distance between them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2010. The theme of this story is one on which many others have written, and very much better than my attempt, but I felt like writing this anyway...

Han pauses at the fork between the officers' quarters and the dirt track that leads to the pilots' barracks. The thought of a cooling shower, a comfortable bed and the crisp chill of sheets are uppermost in his mind, but the voice in his head isn't leaving him alone. His feet take the track as though they have their own, separate, motivation.

It's late, and the moonlight gives a wan luminance to the trees that surround the barracks. A single solar glow-lamp pinpoints the entrance but the rows of windows along the building's front are in darkness, their steel shutters hanging open to the close night air. All around him is a constant buzz from swarms of nocturnal dronebugs.

He's conscious of the emptiness of the place, but it's not the pilots' absence that feeds the hollow pain in the pit of his stomach. Han draws a couple of deeper breaths, letting the oxygen flood his body, the subtle light-headedness numbing the ache. He knows it's only temporary relief, but at this stage he's ready to take what he can get.

He taps a code into the panel beside the door and waits. When the door doesn't open he wonders if the sequence has changed. It takes him a moment to realize the mechanism has failed. It hardly matters – there's no real need anymore to maintain tight security. The building is close to being abandoned and any secrets it once held have moved on, like its former occupants.

All but one, and he'll be gone soon.

Han grips the manual release lever and tries to slide the door across. In common with all past Alliance camps, the barracks is old, dilapidated and functions erratically at best. The door sticks and he uses a foot for extra leverage. Eventually it concedes defeat and Han walks into the building, his boots carving a dull echo through the stone-flagged corridor. 

The air inside is oppressive with a heavy, enveloping moisture and Han wipes a hand across his brow. The power supply hasn't failed entirely. There's no lighting but a low-pitched hum tells him the air-cooling system is still running, though so inefficiently it doesn't seem worth the bother. He peers through the gloom and waits for his eyes to adjust.

The bedrooms reveal themselves through wide open doors. Narrow cots, stripped down to their wooden slats. Metal lockers cleared of the meager possessions of those who bided their time here, waiting for the next battle.

It's the Alliance's last night on Oryllin. Tomorrow Han and the few remaining stragglers left behind to clear up loose ends will leave the place to its fate. And Han will still be chasing his. 

His footsteps falter and he asks himself why he's here. Maybe he ought to open his eyes and let go of the future he once imagined. Perhaps he should go home – or to that place he's called home for the space of a few short months – and wait for the morning to bring a new start.

The earthy scent of a burning candle filters through the darkness. It's redolent with memories of late-night talk and deepening companionship. But beneath it lies the threat of loneliness and an unfounded sense of hurt. Han tells himself that he owes it to that friendship to replace groundless feelings with the truth. 

It isn't necessary to follow the scent to find its source. His feet lead him automatically along the route he's taken many times before. His mind is even more familiar with it, returning here night after night, if only in his restless imagination.

It's a room much like all the others. It differs in that the shutters are loosely latched. Not fastened so tightly as to exclude the chance of a cooler gust of air, but drawn together just enough to keep out night insects. The single bunk is made up, the Rebel Alliance insignia visible in the far left corner of the thin coverlet. On it lies an open holdall, revealing a glimpse of its sparse contents. Han stares at them, struck by how little there is to show for a life lived on the run. 

"I didn't expect you here tonight."

The voice from the doorway startles Han and he turns around, wary of the twist of apprehension that accompanies the motion. He knows by now what causes that lurch of disquiet. It's not seeing Luke that does it, even though it's been there every time they've met since Luke's decision. It's the unsettling notion that he can't come to terms with Luke's decision to go to Kalssos.

Han shrugs and tries to form a grin. "Didn't wanna leave without sayin' goodbye." The grin feels like a deceit and he gives it up. "Thought you might've come to the meal."

"I wanted some time to think," Luke says. Unlike Han, he doesn't attempt to smile.

Han crushes down the thin hope Luke's words give him. It doesn't mean Luke's reconsidering anything, and Han knows better than to clutch at fantasies. He's been doing that for long enough. "You all ready then?" he asks instead.

Luke follows Han's glance to the bed and the packed holdall. "Mostly."

"I heard from your sister." Awkwardness makes his words stilted, but he's promised Leia he'll pass along her message.

Something flickers in Luke's eyes. "Is that why you're here?"

"No."

The shortness of his reply seems to disconcert Luke and he looks away from Han towards the candle set on the locker. It's down to its last, stubby remains and the flame flickers and spits in its pool of molten wax. Han estimates it has little more than a couple of hours left and he wonders what Luke will do then. Sit it out in darkness? He thinks Luke might not bother to sleep at all.

"Is she okay?" Luke asks.

"She misses you. She wants you back where you belong."

Luke smiles then, but it's a pale, watered-down version of the smile Han wants to see. "I miss her too." 

Luke makes no mention of belonging and the omission feels deliberate, even though Han's sure it isn't. He bites back his response and searches for something less antagonistic. He reminds himself that he's promised not to look for rejection where none exists, but the promise doesn't extend to covering up his feelings. "She's not the only one who misses you. I hardly see you these days."

"We've worked together plenty of times." 

Han takes a breath in lieu of recklessness, but the pause makes him reconsider. Maybe it's time to forget caution. It's certainly time for honesty and Han knows he has nothing to lose. Luke's already moved away from him in spirit. " _Worked_ together? Sure we have, and that kinda sums things up doesn't it? 'Cause if all we do is work together then it's easy to keep on treating each other like strangers."

Luke's calm manner slips for the briefest of moments and Han thinks he sees confusion in his eyes. He homes in on it before Luke can speak. "You don't talk to me anymore. You don't even _argue_ with me! You don't step foot inside the Falcon unless you have to. You'd have left tomorrow without a word if I hadn't come here."

"No – that's not true. I'd have found you before going."

"Would you? Doesn't change the fact that something's wrong, though damned if I know what it is. I've been tryin' to work out what I've done."

"Nothing," Luke says.

"What? There's nothing wrong, or I've done nothing? Maybe you're upset with me because of Leia. Maybe you think I should've tried harder, or maybe you think I should never've–"

Luke breaks into Han's words. "It's nothing you've done. I mean it."

"Then what is it? Seems like no-one knows. Except, maybe..." Han lapses into thought, recalling something Leia said during their recent conversation. _Go easy on Luke. It'll make sense soon_. Whatever's up with Luke isn't any clearer but that odd comment of Leia's is suddenly making sense. "Leia knows doesn't she?"

"Did she say something?"

Han gives a brief, dismissive shake of his head. "Nothing specific. Are you gonna tell me?"

"Yes, she knows," Luke says. His eyes seem full of shadows and there's too little light in the room to offset the darkness. 

Han stares back at him, unexpectedly silenced by Luke's admission.

"I'm sorry." Luke moves a hand as though he's about to touch Han's arm, but he doesn't follow the gesture through. 

"You're sorry?" Han repeats, hating the bitterness in his voice but failing to counter it with something milder. "I thought we... Ah, forget it." He walks across to the shuttered window, thinking that breathing fresher air might help to clear his head. The candle flame dips and lurches as he passes it. 

Luke finishes his sentence for him. "You thought we were friends?"

"Something like that." Han keeps his back to Luke. He touches the slats of a shutter, letting the barely perceptible draught from outside drift along his fingers and up his arm. _Something like that. Or nothing like that_. 

"We were. We _are_." 

Han turns round. "Good enough friends that you can't tell _me_ what's goin' on? Or maybe you thought I wouldn't notice." His voice is sharp, betraying the burgeoning sense of rejection and uncertainty within him.

"It's not like that."

"Sure it's not. But hey, never mind – tomorrow we can wave goodbye and that'll be that." The words come out hard and cold, like a reproach, and Han sees in Luke's eyes that they've hit home. He wants to be satisfied by that but the feeling eludes him.

"I never wanted to say goodbye," Luke claims. "That's your take on it."

"Because you've been saying goodbye since Endor."

The shadows in Luke's eyes deepen and Han knows it's only a matter of moments before the now-familiar expression returns to Luke's face. The one that shuts out all attempts to find the truth, and the one that locks Han out as effectively as a durasteel blast door. He's torn by conflicting emotions. Part of him wants to say _fuck it_. To leave this dying base and fly out tomorrow, Chewie by his side, and never look back. But the rest of him says it's not over yet. That there's still time to salvage something from the remains of their friendship. He remembers Leia's words over the scratchy transmission all the way from Zinavora. _Tell him I miss him. Tell him to come home to where he belongs. Tell him... tell him I'm saying yes. Before it's too late. He'll know what I mean._

"I'd better give you the rest of Leia's message before I forget. She says to tell you yes. Whatever the hell that means."

Luke's staring at him like he's grown two heads, something stirring in his face that looks a lot like shock. "What did you say?" His voice is strained, betraying a vulnerability that triggers an alert in Han's mind, but he's clueless as to why.

He repeats the message to Luke, this time giving it word for word, or as clearly as he remembers. "Tell him I'm saying yes, before it's too late. She says you'll know what she means," he adds.

Luke nods slowly, and Han can't help himself. "I guess it's another secret between the two of you." 

Luke starts towards him but doesn't get very far, put off, perhaps, by something he sees in Han's face. "Han, don't – it's not how you think it is. There's no long list of secrets. It's all about the same thing."

"Hey, you don't have to explain yourself to me. She's your sister. Makes sense you're gonna be closer to her."

"That's not the reason she knows. And yes, we're close, but it doesn't mean I don't feel close to you too. I know it hasn't seemed that way lately."

Han's not going to deny that, but he reminds himself he's here because he wants to build bridges, not fling accusations around. "I guess people can be close in all sorts of different ways," he concedes, "and just 'cause a friendship's more casual–"

"It's not casual to me. It's never been casual, right from the start."

The vehemence of Luke's tone takes Han aback, yet his words strike a chord within him. To Han their friendship's never been casual either – if he felt that he wouldn't be here now – but he's sure that Luke's definition of 'not casual' comes from a very different place than Han's. He's not about to start drawing comparisons though, especially when his definition stems partly from wishful thinking. "Okay," he says, "I still shouldn't expect you to tell me stuff. Whatever you talk to Leia about ain't my business."

"What if I'd like it to be your business? Maybe it means something to me that you want to know."

Han feigns a casual shrug. "Anything you wanna tell me, I'll listen," he offers.

"It's complicated." Luke sits down on the edge of the bed, his posture revealing further the uneasiness that Han's already discerned. "Leia's known since Endor. It was something I had to tell her because it affected her too. And if I hadn't come back..." He lets the sentence tail off, unfinished. 

Han frowns. "Is this a Jedi thing?" It's all he can come up with for now.

"That's got something to do with it. It's nothing to do with me thinking you wouldn't understand."

"Isn't it? You didn't make it easy," Han points out. "All that stuff about you and Leia and some kinda Force bond. Didn't make a lot of sense to me."

"That's because it wasn't the full story. It's still true. Leia knew we were twins – she knew it through the Force. I didn't need to prove it."

Han shoves his hands deep in his pockets, more for something to do than anything else. "I didn't ask for proof either." 

Luke's face softens and Han feels it inside like sunshine on frozen ground. It's always been enough for him that Luke and Leia accept their kinship as fact, even if initially it seemed too far-fetched to be true. For both the twins the past is hazardous territory and Han's been careful to steer clear of it. Looking to the future's been good enough, but now that's gone wrong too.

"I know you didn't," Luke says. "But there _is_ more. There always has been. It's a sort of proof."

"Only sort of?" He tries to inject some humor into the conversation, but even though Luke smiles back at him Han knows it hasn't worked. Because he can still see the shadows in Luke's eyes. He wonders what it would take to chase them away for good.

"Yes. When I spoke to Leia in the Ewok village I told her the truth about something because I had to, and because it involved her just as much as me. It was never something I wanted to keep from you. When I came back I thought you'd already know."

"You thought Leia would've told me?"

Luke nods. "I assumed that, but I shouldn't have. It had to be a joint decision – there's no other way it could've been."

"Sounds kinda drastic."

"It was. Maybe it still is." For a moment Luke gives Han the impression that his mind is somewhere else. Somewhere very distant. "It's odd – it's not something I've known for that long but it feels like I've been waiting to talk about it forever. Maybe that's why I thought telling you would be easy."

"But it isn't?"

"No. And it'll be... hard to believe." 

The level tone of Luke's voice doesn't quite bury an undercurrent of trepidation. Han hears it and tries to downplay it, even though he knows it'll make no difference to how Luke feels. "Y'know, I've seen and heard a lot of bad stuff. It's gonna take a lot to faze me."

"So what's the worst of all this bad stuff you've seen?" Luke asks.

The question takes Han by surprise and it throws him a little because it turns the emphasis back on him. He frowns and thinks. "That's kinda hard to answer. D'you mean just stuff I've gotten involved in?"

"Yes."

It's an odd thing to ask and Han can't see where it's leading, but he suspects it's important to Luke that he gives a considered answer. The problem is, his whole life's been a constant series of ups and downs and it's almost impossible to narrow it down to anything specific. Over the years he saw what the Empire did in the galaxy but he stayed in the background and kept himself to himself. But since meeting Luke all that changed. It turned personal, and not just because of the things that were done to him. Admitting he cared made it harder to deal with. Plus he ended up in the middle of Vader's sadistic game and understood, for the first time, what lay at the heart of the Empire's power. 

He tries to explain. "The last few years have been pretty screwed up, thanks to the Empire." He catches Luke's eye and tries to interpret the emotion he sees there. "I'm not talkin' about being turned into a wall hanging," he insists. The last thing he wants is for this to turn into some guilt-inducing trip for Luke. 

"But you lost months of your life."

"Because of Vader."

"Because Vader was after me," Luke maintains.

"If you're gonna look for blame then it's just as much my fault he did what he did to you."

"No – that doesn't work. He knew I couldn't stay away. That's why he did it."

"You can twist it any way you like but you're not gonna make me change my mind. I'm sticking to blamin' Vader and that's the end of it." 

Han leans back against the far wall, suddenly weary. The only place to sit is the bed and Luke's already on that. A few weeks ago Han would've flung himself down next to Luke, nudging him to shift along if there wasn't enough room, and he wouldn't have thought twice about it. But tonight that feels impossible. Like pretending there's an easiness between them that no longer exists. "Y'know," he continues, "Vader's dead 'n gone. How long's it gonna be before you let him go?"

"What d'you mean?" 

Luke's looking at him strangely and Han frowns, puzzled all over again. He wonders if he should just shut up, but a niggling thought inside his head tells him the Emperor's hatchet man is still playing a central role in Luke's life. He feels the familiar rush of anger towards Vader. He isn't sure if this is solely down to the list of atrocities he can lay at Vader's feet, or whether there's something more complicated going on in his mind. Vader set a complex trap for Luke, but Luke has kept a steadfast silence on the exact details of their meetings ever since. Han has to admit that it bothers him more than he's ever said. It's a disturbing thought that he might be equally as upset over Luke keeping things from him than he is about what happened to Luke. Or that he's just as angry with Vader for being responsible for Luke's withdrawal as he is with him for all the pain and suffering he caused.

He hasn't come here tonight to talk about Vader, but somehow that's where they've ended up. He tells himself he'll have one more go before letting it rest for good.

"You got rid of him so why're you still letting him fuck with your head?"

Luke gets up and paces across the floor, as though moving will free him from his memories, if that's what they are. "Vader died. I didn't kill him. I've told you that," he says.

Han curses himself silently because he knows it's essential to Luke that Han sees the difference. He finds it difficult to understand the problem though. If he'd been up in that thing instead of Luke he'd have killed Vader with a huge grin on his face and he wouldn't have held back on the celebrations afterwards. He holds a hand up in apology. "Yeah – I know that. Sorry. It just doesn't make any sense that he's still got a hold over you."

Luke gives a half smile though his eyes are still flecked with shadow. "He doesn't have a hold over me. And it's not Vader fucking with my head, as you say."

"Then what is? 'Cause somethin' sure as hell is."

"Maybe the same thing that gets to you also gets to me."

"What're you talking about?"

"Keeping secrets. Not talking any more. Seeing the look in your eyes 'cause you think I don't trust you enough."

"Maybe you don't, but that's my problem ain't it?"

"No – that's what I'm trying to tell you. It's _my_ problem. I thought it'd be simpler than this. No reason why something no-one knew about should turn into such a big deal." 

Luke walks across to the doorway. Han thinks for a moment that he's going to leave, but all he does is stare down the corridor into the darkness and stillness. When he turns back to face Han his expression has tightened again, but there's a look of resolution in his eyes. Han stays silent.

"D'you want to know why that is?" Luke asks.

It isn't clear whether the question relates to the problems of keeping things secret, or an explanation of the secrets themselves, but Han nods anyway. He wants the answer to both.

"Because a lot of things I believe in come down to trust," Luke says. "Trusting you. Trusting my friends. Trusting Yoda and Ben. Trusting myself." The words come out hard and deliberate, like rapid fire. "Both Ben and Yoda kept things from me and I remember how I felt when I found out. It felt like... total betrayal. It took me a while to understand what they did and why they did it."

The look Luke's giving him seems to demand some sort of response so Han makes one, though with nothing substantial to go on he's pulling ideas out of the air. "I guess they were tryin' to protect you?" He tries to think of more to say, but it's close to impossible to shed light on a situation he knows nothing about. All he's ever had from Luke about events that happened after leaving Hoth has been either vague to the point of incomprehensible, or brutally blunt and shocking. Such as how Vader cut off Luke's hand. Even there, he was given the bare facts and no elaboration.

Surprisingly, Luke's nodding. "You're right. They were trying to protect me. They thought I wasn't ready for the truth."

"Were you?"

Luke sighs. "Probably not, but it didn't make any difference in the end. I found out anyway."

"From them?"

"No," Luke states, his voice flat.

He doesn't expand on that and Han frowns, no less confused than he was before he came here. "Would it've been easier if they'd told you?"

Luke gives a short laugh, but it seems laced more with self-mockery than amusement. "There wouldn't have been an easy way to find out. I'm not saying they were wrong. They believed they were doing the right thing." 

He starts the restless pacing again, and Han watches him for a few moments. He's about to speak simply to fill the silence but Luke spares him the necessity.

"It wasn't just Ben and Yoda who hid things. Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen did it too, and maybe they thought if they kept me sheltered it'd keep me safe. The difference is that Ben and Yoda knew I'd find out one day. They _needed_ me to find out."

Han shakes his head, mystified. "Are you talkin' about being a Jedi? I thought Ben told you that straight off..."

Luke looks at him, a faint expression of apology on his face. "Sorry," he murmurs, "I know I'm not making any sense. Yes, Ben told me I should become a Jedi right from the start. And he told me my father had been one too. That was never a secret."

"Okay." Han gives an almost indiscernible shrug, wary of pushing too far with yet another question. He sees Luke notice the gesture and registers the small frown that flits across Luke's forehead. "You don't have to tell me," he adds.

"I want to tell you. I've always wanted to tell you, but sometimes things don't work out the way we hope."

"You mean Leia wanted it to stay secret?" Han guesses. It isn't that difficult to work it out. And if he's interpreting Leia's message correctly, she's just given Luke the freedom to talk. _Tell him I'm saying yes, before it's too late_. He isn't intending to imply any criticism of Leia but he knows Luke's going to defend her stance anyway.

"She had good reasons," Luke insists. "I understood them. She needed time to come to terms with it and I couldn't turn round and say no. I'd already had months to think about it. And there was a lot at stake for her."

_But there was a lot at stake for you, too_ , Han deduces, though he holds his tongue. It's been a long day and it's turning into a longer night, and his weariness has started to get the better of him. He moves across to the bed and sits, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. There's another question that's popped into his head, insistent and discomforting. "Is that why Leia broke up with me? 'Cause she couldn't tell me?"

Luke's stopped his pacing and is studying Han's face. "I... don't know."

"I reckon you do," Han counters, his voice taking on a sharp note that he tries to suppress. "Come on Luke – it was six months ago. I'm asking 'cause I'm curious, not 'cause I'm holding some kinda grudge."

"Six months isn't a long time." 

"Don't dodge the question. But just to set things straight, I'm not dyin' of a broken heart here. Anything you tell me ain't gonna change the fact I knew it wasn't gonna work out."

"Why not?"

Luke's still evading the issue but Han lets it go for the moment. If give a little, take a little will get him some answers, he's prepared to play along. "It's hard to explain. It was okay at first. It just kinda... tailed off. I got the feelin' that's what she wanted. Never knew why." He levels a pointed look at Luke. "I thought maybe you could tell me that."

"I can't, sorry. But she did say something once..."

"Go on."

"That the two of you had finally discovered how to be friends."

"What? That's it?"

"Yeah."

"I dunno what that means."

"I thought I knew what she meant but I don't know for sure. I don't want to mess things up if there's a chance you can get back together."

Han gives a heavy sigh, laden with exasperation. "Here's the thing. I don't _want_ to get back together with her, okay? I wanna know what was going on, but like I said, it's just curiosity. It's not gonna wreck our friendship and it's not gonna wreck the friendship I've got with Leia."

Luke hesitates and moves towards the window, probably in search of cooler air. He leans back against the frame and studies Han. "I thought she was telling me she loved you but she wasn't in love with you anymore. That things had changed, but neither of you knew what to do about it at first. Once the pressure was off and you stopped pretending everything was fine she thought the two of you got on better." He pauses and frowns slightly. "I think she thought you felt the same way." 

Luke's looking at him and waiting for some kind of reply, but when Han doesn't make one he carries on. "I know she kept stuff from you to begin with because she wanted time to deal with it in private. Afterwards... well, I guess the longer things stay buried the harder it is to talk about them. And maybe she thought it was too late. It'd driven you away."

" _She_ left _me_ , remember."

"I didn't mean it literally."

Han shuffles back on the bed so he can lean his head against the wall. The rough stucco is only fractionally less warm than the air in the room but it feels good, even so. "Okay – I'm gonna be honest here. I wasn't in love with her. Maybe I could've been or maybe it was never gonna happen, but it didn't have anything to do with her keeping stuff from me. I thought she left me 'cause she guessed how I felt." He runs his fingers through his hair, grimacing at the damp stickiness of it. "Now I know she felt the same way. I dunno why she didn't just tell me."

"Probably the same reason you didn't tell her."

Han tosses a wry grin at Luke, acknowledging the accuracy of that. "Way to screw things up, huh?"

"You seem okay together now."

Han nods, but he's hit by the irony of their situation. Here they are, almost back to talking like they used to, but over the lack of communication between himself and Leia. Yet the main reason he's here tonight is because Luke's effectively stopped talking to him. Or he had, but even now they've made some progress they're still sidetracking the real issue. 

Han's also aware that he's guilty of a double standard. Leia's kept things from him just the same as Luke, but somehow the knowledge doesn't bother him to anything like the same degree. He's not fully comfortable with the intimacy that Luke and Leia share and if he's honest about it he supposes he's jealous. It's not an attractive thought, and nor is the one that tells him he's been unfair to Luke. It can't have been easy for him, balancing his wish for honesty with his loyalty and consideration for Leia.

But it hasn't been easy for Han either. When he was ready to face the reality of his feelings for Leia he'd hardly gone to Luke to bare his soul. How could he, the reasons being what they were? Even now he's not told Luke the truth, so maybe he's just as guilty of holding back when he thinks honesty could do more harm than good. The difference is that he's tried to keep things as they were, making sure not to reveal anything on the surface that might give him away. He assumes he's done a good enough job, but maybe he's just better at deception than Luke.

He's also wound up, tired, hot, uncomfortable and irritated with himself, and he's not sure how much longer he can keep up this level of avoidance. He glances at his chrono but all it tells him is that he's running out of time.

"If you want to go..." Luke suggests.

"Nope. Just wonderin' where we're going with this."

There's a too-long gap between Han's comment and Luke's answer, and it's clear to Han that Luke's still battling with uncertainty. "It's hot in here. D'you wanna try the rec room?" Luke asks at last.

The well of frustration inside Han rises a little higher. Whilst it's perfectly feasible that Luke's just noticed how hot and bothered Han looks, it's equally likely that Luke's seeking another diversion. "What's the point? It'll be hot in the rec room too. It's hot every damn place," he growls.

"The cooler still works. I could get you a drink."

"Why? Am I gonna need one?"

"You might." Luke's tone is as guarded as his eyes.

Han hauls himself forward to the edge of the bed. "Okay, I get it. You don't wanna tell me but you don't wanna come right out 'n say so. Like I said, you don't have to say anything, so let's just forget it." He stands up, trying to loosen his shirt. Glued to his back with sweat, it's a physical reminder of the cold shower waiting for him back in his rooms. "We should both get some sleep. Gonna be a long day tomorrow."

"It's about Vader."

Han, halfway towards the doorway, stops and turns. "What about him?" That trace of vulnerability is back in Luke's voice, and once again it produces a flutter of apprehension in Han's gut.

"He spent a long time tracking me down. All the things he did – the trap in Cloud City, torturing you, taking me to the Emperor – they all had one aim."

"To get rid of you. And he failed."

"He didn't want to get rid of me. He wanted me to join him."

Han stares at him, trying to push aside the anxiety that refuses to subside. "What the hell for?"

"Because he thought I could be powerful. That I could work alongside him. In his words, to restore order to the galaxy."

Han swipes at his brow, feeling new prickles of sweat breaking out across it. "He must've been crazy to think you'd do that."

"Maybe. He knew what he was doing though. He had it all worked out."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Han mutters. "Makes you wonder why his plan failed." He can't keep the biting sarcasm out of his voice and doesn't see why he should, even if that odd sense of something off kilter tells him to calm down. "Torturing and murdering people, cutting off your hand and leaving you for dead, handing you over to the Emperor – beats me how he didn't win you over."

"He did all that to manipulate me. He knew the things I cared about and he made me see what it'd be like to lose them."

"So he thought you'd just switch sides? What'd he do – offer to put everything right if you teamed up with him?"

"That was more the Emperor's line. Vader had something more... direct."

"Like what? Power? Your own private Star Destroyer? Didn't know you very well then, did he?"

"He didn't know me at all. Not until the end."

Han scrutinizes Luke's face in the dim light, because something about the way he's said those last words seems odd. Like there's a sadness there that doesn't seem logical. Because of that he tries to smooth over the contempt for Vader that keeps spiking every word he says. "You mean Vader saw what you were really like before he died?"

"It was earlier than that. But he didn't see only me, he saw himself. Just like I saw myself when I really saw him."

Han scratches at his head. "I'm supposed to make any sense of that?"

Luke smiles, and this time Han's sure there's genuine amusement there. It gives him a sudden shot of warmth, better than the finest Corellian brandy. 

"That's why Vader killed the Emperor. He saved my life."

"Wait... you told me there was a struggle between Vader and the Emperor and the Emperor lost."

"Yes. And that Vader was too seriously injured afterwards to live. All of that's true."

"But you make it sound like Vader saved your life deliberately."

"He did. The Emperor was... well, he was about to kill me. Vader stopped him and threw him down the reactor shaft. He saved me, and he saved himself."

Han knows he should sit down again, but he can't seem to move towards the bed. It feels like there's something between the lines of what Luke's telling him that he can't quite grasp. ... _like I saw myself when I really saw him..._ He concentrates on the last thing Luke said. "Saved himself?"

"He found his true self. What he used to be before Vader took over."

"His true self." Han wonders if the most he can contribute now is just to repeat the most incomprehensible parts of Luke's explanation in the hope they'll become clearer.

"All the time he played on a connection between us, trying to make it work in his favor. It almost went the way he wanted it to but it was because of that connection that I saw what was happening. He saw it too."

Han decides that it's getting worse, no doubt about it. He can't even pinpoint something to repeat this time, and even if he does, chances are Luke isn't going to clarify it. He makes the effort to sit back down. Taking the weight off his feet seems to give him a tiny bit of extra focus, and it centers on one word of Luke's that makes the least sense of all.

"Connection? There wasn't any connection! Whatever Vader thought he was gonna get from you was all in his head."

"Vader's real name was Anakin," Luke says. "Anakin Skywalker."

The jolt goes through him, swift and startling. All the strange twinges of apprehension and the feeling of something just out of reach start coming together, but they're not quite at the point of coalescing.

"He was my father. Mine and Leia's."

There are no more jolts. No gut-churning shock or incredulity. Just an odd lack of feeling. "Your father." The repetition this time is purely automatic. Han's not even sure he's spoken aloud.

He knows Luke's staring at him and it makes him wonder what kind of reaction Luke expected to get. If someone other than Luke told him this he might've laughed at them. Or punched them on the jaw. Perhaps Luke envisaged the same. He doubts Luke anticipated this protracted silence. Han doesn't even _want_ this silence but he can't determine how he feels. He's probably giving the appearance of calm acceptance, but if he's certain of one thing it's that he's a long way from there. 

And there's a scene in his head that feels like it's stuck there. A scene that no longer makes sense. They made it through the attacking TIEs after their frantic escape from the Death Star, but the euphoria was short-lived for Luke. His grief over the deaths of his Aunt and Uncle, closely followed by Ben, came crashing back. And Luke focused the anger arising from that grief onto the person who killed Ben in front of his eyes. It was Leia who told them who it was, and Han will never forget the expression on Luke's face. Nor the words he spoke right afterwards... _He killed my father too_.

"Han?" 

Luke's voice reaches through to him and Han lifts his head to meet Luke's eyes. He's still calm, but it's more a case of staying contained. Sooner or later there's a whole horde of emotions that he'll have to work through but for now he's going to concentrate on facts. "But your father–"

Luke stops him. "You have to forget about anything I said before."

"Okay." He pauses for a second or two in order to push the troublesome memory aside, conscious that he's still functioning on auto-pilot. "When did you find out?" He's as certain as he can be that the last time he saw Luke on Hoth, before everything went to hell, Luke didn't know. When they said their goodbyes in the hangar bay, Luke was his normal self. His _old_ self.

"Cloud City."

"When he...?"

"Yes."

Han swears, not quite beneath his breath. The anger that he's managed to suppress so far begins to bubble to the surface. He pulls himself to his feet and paces across to the window. He's tempted to wrench the shutters open for no other reason than to vent his growing fury. 

"It changes everything, doesn't it?" Luke asks. He joins Han at the window and leans a shoulder against the steel frame, watching him.

Han's instinct is to deny it. To say that it makes no difference. But the reality is that it _has_ changed things. And it changed things well before tonight. Like Luke. In what seemed to Han like the blink of an eye, Luke replaced his youthful simplicity with something much more complex. Something darker. He flung himself back into Han's life in Jabba's palace and he brought his new knowledge with him like a constant shadow. And in all the days leading up to today Han never fully understood why. While time stood still for Han it brought havoc to Luke's life. 

And it's changed Leia too. _Vader's daughter._ For the first time, he feels a prickle of hurt that Leia chose to keep this from him. Not because he thinks it would've kept them together but because of his own encounter with Vader. He's always believed that shared experiences bring people closer, but maybe Leia thought Han's level of tolerance would only stretch so far. Whichever way he looks at it, it feels like a lack of trust.

And now it's changed Han and he can't pretend otherwise. Nor does he think Luke wants him to – he's made it clear that honesty and trust go hand-in-hand. "Yeah. It changes things," he says. There's no other answer to give.

Luke's eyes are too deep in shadow for Han to gauge his reaction. "Including me?" His voice gives nothing away either.

"In some ways," Han admits. "But it'd be crazy to think it wouldn't." He shrugs, trying to seem casual about it. "People change all the time just 'cause life happens. Ain't all down to Vader."

"But it changes how you see me." 

Luke says it like it's a statement of fact and not a question. His earlier words return, like an echo inside Han's head... _like I saw myself when I really saw him..._

"Maybe," Han says. It's an inadequate answer and he knows it. But even though he's not had the chance to think it through, he knows that he won't see Luke in quite the same way again.

But he also knows, in the instant the word escapes his lips, that Luke's mistaken his meaning. He knows by the brief nod Luke gives him, acknowledging something that Han hasn't intended, and by the swift change of subject and too-careless tone of Luke's next remark. 

"There are more candles in the rec room. I'll go and find one before it gets too dark to see." 

He's gone before Han can stop him, disappearing through the door and into the gloom beyond. It takes only a moment for Han to move but when he reaches the corridor Luke's nowhere in sight. 


	2. Chapter 2

The barracks are two buildings joined together and Han's never got to grips with the rambling layout, nor with the illogical decision to house the sleeping quarters in the older structure. Here, the system of climate control is next to useless most of the time, so all the bedrooms swelter in the almost year-round hot season. Plus, through some insane decision dreamt up by the Alliance powers-that-be who never slept here, the 'freshers are in the adjoining block. So the pilots trailed from one building to the next just to take a shower. 

He doesn't bother to ask himself why Luke sticks it out in such a hell-hole of a building when he could've had a room in the Officers' Quarters, complete with en-suite 'fresher and state-of-the-art air cooler. It wouldn't occur to Luke to set himself apart from his Squadron, even if flying with them is a rare thing for him these days. Han's more of a loner and he's just as happy sleeping in the Falcon as he is in the room he used to share with Leia, but he's not averse to a few home comforts. Luke doesn't seem to want or need them. But then Han suspects that staying here tonight, alone, feels significant to Luke – though he isn't going to speculate on why that is. If he does, he'll end up wondering if Luke isn't as ready for change as he appears to be.

There's a covered walkway that leads into the newer building with its communal rooms. The first one is the mess hall with its battered, well-used tables and benches still set out in rows. There's a subdued light from the adjoining kitchen – evidence that the power circuitry is still functional here. Han peers into the room, but apart from the industrial stove and gaping, emptied coolers, it's as deserted as the rest of the place.

The rec room is a wide, low-ceilinged annex tacked onto the far end of the building. In the few times Han's been here he's known where to find it by the constant noise and laughter, and it's always been a struggle to make his way through to the bar. This time the room is almost silent, except for the low hum of an overhead security lamp that bathes the surroundings in a dim wash of blue light. 

The place is stripped of all the miscellaneous paraphernalia that accompanied the off-duty pilots. There are no games tables and no music console. No discarded helmets, flight gloves or datacards. The only reminder of the room's former chaos are a number of overturned chairs. Han skirts around them, resisting an unaccountable urge to right them.

There's a weak yellow glow from a transparisteel cooler set against the wall behind the bar and it illuminates the open door of a walk-in storeroom. That's where Han finds Luke, an open box on the shelf in front of him, its contents spilling out in a haphazard mound.

"You didn't let me explain," Han says.

Luke doesn't look round from his search of the box. "You don't need to." His tone is matter-of-fact but it's a long way off disguising the tension that Han knows is there.

"I do need to, so just listen will ya!" 

Luke puts down a tangled mass of unidentifiable objects and turns round to face Han. "Okay, I'm listening."

Now he's got Luke's attention all the things Han thought about saying on his trek through the barracks have vanished from his mind, and all he can summon is an inept awkwardness. "What you just told me... y'know, it was kinda hard to take in. I said stuff off the top of my head. If you'd let me have a chance to think about it..."

"You'd have said the same things, just in a more roundabout way. I didn't want any long answers. Just your gut reaction."

"I was tryin' to be honest but it didn't come out right. You got the wrong end of the stick."

"You know what's crazy about all this?" Luke asks, once again throwing a question at Han that seems to bypass Han's explanation.

_Besides everything?_ Han thinks. "What?"

"It's one of things Leia said to me. That we should make the most of the time we have until people find out. It'll be our last chance to live normally before it all changes. She knows that afterwards, whenever people look at us, they'll see Vader instead."

Luke walks out of the storeroom, his search for candles either abandoned or forgotten. Han follows him, a frown creasing his brow. "Being worried about it doesn't sound so crazy. She's wrong though – no-one's gonna do that," he maintains.

"I didn't mean it was crazy of her to think that. But we've spent the past few months _not_ living normally, just because we held off from telling people. You and Leia split up. We sort of... drifted apart. That's what's crazy." 

Luke leans back against the bar, his eyes on Han. He's standing directly in front of a climate control vent and the draught from it catches his tunic, ruffling the fabric. Luke doesn't seem to notice as he continues to talk. "People _will_ look at us and see Vader. It won't all be bad, but it'll happen. Caring about that isn't why Leia wanted to wait though. She's worried about how it'll affect the Alliance. It's still early days."

"I get what you're saying and I can see why you've gotta take your time and think it through. But I'm not doing what you think I'm doing. I'm not lookin' at you and seeing Vader instead."

"But it changes how you see me. Isn't that the same thing?" 

Luke pushes off from the bar as if he's going to walk away again, but Han's already there. His hands come up to grip Luke's shoulders, preventing him from moving. "Of course it changes how I see you! What d'you expect? And yes, I do see Vader, but not in the way you think!" 

He takes a breath, knowing he's too close to exploding with all his pent-up fury towards Vader. "You're everything he wasn't. I haven't a freakin' clue how Vader ended up like he did or how the hell he got to be a father, but I do know you're nothing like him."

Han's suddenly conscious of his hands on Luke's shoulders. Of how close to Luke he's standing and of his fingers gripping hard like he doesn't want to let go. He breaks his hold, too abruptly to seem natural, and sees the surprise flash across Luke's face. 

He keeps talking, partly because Luke's actually listening to him and partly to cover up his confusion. "You're tellin' me you found out on Bespin right after Vader carved you up? Then what did you do? Run 'n hide? No – you got yourself fixed up. You made a plan and you worked at it. D'you think I'm not lookin' at you and wondering how you kept it all together?"

Luke glances away for a moment. "I don't know if I did. Not all the time." He looks back at Han. "There were days when I couldn't come to terms with it."

"Sounds about normal to me." If normal is the right word to use for something as extreme as discovering you had Vader for a father. "So when I say I see Vader, I'm seein' the differences between you," he continues. "I'm seeing how you fought him and how you went 'n faced him after everything he did. It's _you_ I'm seeing, not someone in your place! Sure, some things've changed but they're just details. You're still the same person. But now I'm seein' just how strong you are 'cause you're still here after going through that!"

"I didn't do it alone. I–"

"No," Han interrupts. "You went by yourself to find Vader and I'm guessing that's how it's been the whole time."

"Being by myself wasn't the same as being alone. I think you understand that."

It's another one of Luke's cryptic observations, but in this case Han believes he understands. Luke's talking about friendship and support – in part, his motivation for carrying on. But Han thinks there's more to the remark than meets the eye. He thinks Luke's drawing a comparison to their current situation. That they need to remember what they mean to each other and not allow themselves to get lost in stupid misunderstandings and imagined slights. And maybe Luke's pointing out the potential loneliness of carrying on the way they've been going. That they stand to lose too much. 

"So what about now?" Han asks, in place of a direct reply. The fact that he's here tonight is enough of an answer to Luke's comment and he doesn't need to add anything to make that clear.

Luke throws him a quizzical look. "What are you asking me? If I still feel I'm not alone? Or if I've come to terms with being Vader's son?"

"Both, I guess," Han says. He fastens his eyes on the scratched, pitted surface of the bar and traces a line of cracks with a fingernail. He can sense that Luke's far from convinced by his answer, but he's not about to offer any other possibilities.

"The short answer's yes, most of the time. But if you're really asking what happens between us, then I don't know." 

Startled, Han looks up from the countertop. "What?" 

"You said you came to say goodbye. It that still what you want?"

"I never wanted that. I didn't think there was a choice."

Something shifts in Luke's expression and he takes a couple of steps towards Han. "There's always been a choice."

Luke's very close to him again and Han has to fight the urge to back away. It's a contradiction he's well aware of – that the desire to back away stems directly from the desire to move even closer and if he doesn't do one he might well end up doing the other. He forces himself to keep talking instead, even though he's not too sure what Luke's trying to say. "Yeah, well I'm sorry." 

"What for?"

"Jumpin' to conclusions. Being an asshole these last few weeks. Not being there when Vader got hold of you," Han explains.

"That's hardly your fault."

"Yeah, well if I'd been there I'd never've let it go. I'd have kept on at you till you told me. Instead you had to deal with it by yourself."

The look Luke's giving him is full of something that Han can't identify. He'd call it affection for want of a better term, but it seems more ambiguous than that. Luke's next words are full of the same indefinable warmth. "For what it's worth, I wish you'd been there too." 

It's worth a great deal to Han, but now they've stumbled into an uncomfortable silence where neither of them knows what to say. Part of him wants to simplify things. To set the soul-searching and emotional turmoil aside for something more mundane. He realizes they could both do with a breathing space where they can stand back and take account of everything they've said. But the other part of him can't bring himself to leave. His eyes alight on a row of glasses stacked beneath the bar and he reaches for one before he can change his mind. "Maybe I'll have that drink after all," he says.

There's a fractional pause before Luke responds. "There's stuff in the cooler if you want," he says. 

Han nods, wondering why the thought of a drink holds so little appeal. He moves towards the cooler.

"Han."

There's something about the way Luke says his name that triggers a new feeling of alertness inside Han. "Yeah?" 

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

The question, so totally unexpected, stops Han in his tracks. He turns round to face Luke, already deriding himself for leaping to conclusions. It's a simple enough question and the answer's surely just as simple. All Luke wants is company in this lonely, abandoned building. And it's their last opportunity to spend any time together.

"Sure." 

The single word response is neutral enough to cover all interpretations but it doesn't seem to satisfy Luke. He moves another step closer to Han, his eyes searching Han's face. "You know what I'm asking?"

Han hesitates, feeling like he's reached a boundary that may not be safe to cross. "Depends on whether you want me to stay as a friend or as... somethin' more."

"How about both?"

Han stares back at him, all of a sudden struggling for words. "Okay," he manages.

Luke says nothing but the overhead security light catches his eyes just long enough for Han to see the question forming there. He knows it for what it is and tries to forestall it before Luke's able to voice it. "I want to." He says it as decisively as he can, because whatever Luke thinks is going on here, it has nothing to do with Han forcing himself to do Luke a favor.

"But if I hadn't–"

Han cuts him off. "Don't start questioning it."

A small smile touches the corner of Luke's mouth and flickers briefly in his eyes. "Right," he says. 

Another period of silence, but this time it's edged with a tension that hadn't been there before and it forces a niggling doubt into the back of Han's mind. He tells himself to ignore it because how can he start questioning it himself after denying Luke that opportunity? Luke's asked Han to stay and he's agreed, and maybe it shouldn't matter so much that Luke understands his motives for saying yes. 

"You wanna get that drink?" Han hears himself ask into the stillness. Even though the last thing he wants to do is sit in the rec room forcing down a drink he'd rather not have, looking over the rim of his glass at Luke and wondering if they're about to make the biggest mistake of their friendship so far. But he asks because he wonders if they should take the time to think. He doubts that either of them are capable of making a rational judgment right now. Luke, after revealing something that Han would've found almost too much to handle, is possibly looking for a way to reconnect with Han and maybe for a few moments where he can forget who he is. As for what Han's looking for – one night with Luke isn't going to come close to being enough.

"No. I'd like to go back to the room." 

Luke's reply brings Han's thoughts to an abrupt halt. All but one, and that homes in on the underlying need he hears beneath Luke's measured words, and the instinctive, visceral response that shudders through him. He tries to reply but Luke's not waiting. Han watches him head for the doorway and disappear through it into the dark corridor. He looks down and sees that he's still clutching the empty glass in his hand. He places it on the countertop and follows Luke.

***

The candle's burnt down to almost nothing, sputtering out the last moments of its life by throwing distorted shadows across the room. Luke's standing by the window, motionless, the fading candlelight glinting in his hair.

Han holds his gaze for several long moments. Just a short while ago they were talking about change, and Han's had no time to adjust to the twist in reality that means rethinking all he knows about Vader. Now things are about to change again and whatever happens in the future, their relationship will have altered. It already has. The instant Luke asked him to stay was the instant they stepped onto unfamiliar ground. Han's often seen how change can be a catalyst for further change, and he wonders if Luke's request has its roots in the shift that's already taken place between them. But now isn't the time to look for reasons, and Han can see in Luke's face that he's reached a place where he's agonized enough and talked enough and now he's waiting for Han to meet him in that same place.

Han says nothing, then turns and closes the door. It's the clearest signal he can possibly give. The electronic lock isn't working but there's an internal steel security bolt. Han slides it home and notices that his hand isn't quite steady.

He moves up to Luke until they're almost touching and Han can feel the heat of Luke's body just a fingertip's breadth away. Luke's giving off an aura of calm but it isn't fooling Han. He sees the rapid throb of a pulse at Luke's temple and hears the slight unevenness of his breathing. There's too much tension, too much unsaid and too much he doesn't know about what Luke wants, but he pushes all that aside and reaches for Luke's shoulders. Pulls him up close and fastens his lips to Luke's. 

Maybe he's been expecting Luke to be conflicted. To show some degree of confusion or reluctance even though he's initiated this. There's none of that. No hesitation, no doubt and no holding back. Just an overriding need that transmits itself from Luke to Han in the way Luke opens up to the kiss, his tongue pushing deep into Han's mouth and his hand reaching up to grip Han's head. And it catches Han unawares, shattering the tenuous hold he has on all his feelings for Luke. Amongst them, more deeply concealed but as quick to surface, comes a potent desire.

Even through this tumult of emotion a couple of thoughts take shape in Han's mind. The first is the realization of how close they came to missing this chance for good. But, just like always, they're taking a risk instead of playing it safe, and now Han's losing his head to Luke. His second thought is the recognition of how quickly he's turned from someone who's taken such pains to mask his craving for Luke into someone who's dominated by it. He's unable to tear himself away but equally unable to ward off the urge to touch Luke in ways he's never considered possible. He can't stem the groan from deep in his throat. 

Luke's reaction is to break the kiss and step back, something in his gaze anchoring Han in place. Han's eyes lock on Luke as Luke's fingers move to the fastenings of his tunic. His breath catches as Luke pulls the tunic over his head and throws it aside. He's seen Luke undress before, but never like this. And never through eyes that feed on every angle, every plane and every curve of his body.

Luke bends down to pull off his boots, and the moment he stands upright again is the moment Han's able to move. He sheds his clothes automatically, his eyes still fixed on Luke, riding through the surge of arousal when Luke works the buckle of his belt loose. And when Luke's waiting there amidst scattered clothing and discarded weapons Han feels like he's taking his first breath in hours. 

To Han, Luke's always had a suggestion of innocence about him. And even after all Luke's done and all he's been through Han's never been able to let that feeling go. Now, as he stands and stares at Luke in the last vestiges of candlelight, he sees a side to Luke that leaves no room for such a sentiment. Because Luke looks far from innocent now, with a focused light in his eyes and a breathless hunger shivering across his skin. There's a flush of heat suffusing Luke's chest and a sheen of sweat from the stifling humidity. The hard heaviness of his erection gives him a raw physicality that sparks a powerful, reflexive response in Han.

It takes Han a second to close the gap between them and to join their mouths together again. He doesn't know how they make it to the bed but somehow they're there, and he pins Luke's body beneath his own and smothers Luke's sharply-drawn breath with a searching kiss.

If they stay like this, wrapped around each other and fuelled by the chaotic force of lust Han knows they'll consume themselves in moments. Maybe it's catharsis Luke wants, but Han thinks this won't be enough. It's impossible to separate his own desires from those of Luke, but he only really knows what _he_ wants. He wants to drive it out of Luke – all the mess and heartache of the past – but he doesn't want it to be over. He wants to make Luke ache and burn. He wants him shaking with need, groaning and desperate. And he wants to watch him come, gasping out Han's name. 

He's going on instinct and nothing's telling him to stop. And as much as Han wants to touch him, Luke wants to be touched. He can't discover all there is to discover about Luke in one night, but it's as though Luke's impelling him to try through murmured sighs and the ripples of pleasure Han feels beneath his hands. He builds on Luke's arousal, drawing his palms across Luke's body and brushing his lips over hardened nipples. He kisses him behind his knees and along the soft skin of his inner thighs, slowly and deliberately winding Luke up to a point where he's close to losing control.

Luke knows what Han's going to do. Han can tell by the throaty imprecation that tears itself from Luke's lips and the clutch of his fingers in Han's hair. Han's never heard words like this from Luke before and now he wants to hear them over and over again. He takes Luke in his mouth, suddenly oblivious to the noises Luke's making. He's aware of only one thing now. The salt-sweet slickness of Luke's erection and the fullness and heat between his lips. He uses his tongue, holding down Luke's hips when Luke arches beneath him. Han knows he can't stop. That he's going to take Luke in deep, and he's going to push him on, further and further, until he falls apart.

But Luke's trying to hold back, and the hands tugging at Han's head tell him Luke wants something else. It's an effort for Han to drag himself off Luke, and he's left empty and aching for the taste of him. He's conscious of the blood pounding inside his head, and Luke's erratic breaths show how close Han came to finishing it. He leans in close to catch Luke's words. 

He thinks he should've anticipated this. That for Luke to want anything means he's likely to want everything. Han wants it too, with a whole-body craving that's impossible to deny. But a small warning gets through to his befuddled brain that advises restraint. "You know, we've got the whole night. Maybe we oughta–"

"Han..." Luke cuts off his voice of caution, but Han knows it never had much of a chance anyway.

"We need something."

"The locker." Luke's words come out short and terse, but Han knows that's down to the effort to speak rationally. 

He slides his feet to the floor and opens the locker door. The candlelight doesn't reach inside and it's difficult to see. He can't find anything in there that's of any use at all. There's just shaving stuff, datacards and Luke's datapad. The last-minute things still waiting to be packed. He pushes them aside and knocks a bottle to the floor. It doesn't break but rolls across the stone tiles, noisy in the silence. It contains the thin liquid soap handed out by Alliance Supplies, and which is no good for anything, let alone–

He feels Luke's hand on his shoulder, and the press of warm fingertips. Then there's Luke's voice, a quiet murmur in his ear. "Let me look."

Han moves aside and sits back on the bed, watching him. He's still wound up, his body too aware of Luke and his breathing not yet evened out. But the interruption gives him a chance to regain control. It also gives him a chance to think. He wonders if they should keep it uncomplicated. But Luke's not one for doing that and neither is Han, and maybe they only have this one night. He doesn't want to consider that. Doesn't want to imagine how it's going to feel to wake up without Luke for an endless succession of days in the future. 

"Here." Luke hands him a tatty kitbag, fastened with a metal catch. Han recognizes it because he's got one himself. They were supplied to everyone on Hoth to help counteract the grueling conditions. The catch is stuck, corroded by the perpetual moisture of Oryllin's environment, and he has to tug hard to loosen it. Inside is a familiar-looking jumble of regulation-issue medications. Han knows, with a strange ache inside, that Luke hasn't touched the kitbag since leaving Hoth and he thinks he can guess why. It represents a side to Luke's life that Luke believes he's lost. It has to do with innocence and idealism. With optimism and dreams for a path that changed so much in such a short space of time. But Han's sure there's a part of Luke still holding out a hope for that. It's why he's kept the bag, hidden away in the depths of the locker.

His fingers close around a stoneware jar, and he knows it's this that Luke was thinking of. It's one of the things they used to help withstand the blistering cold of Hoth's climate. They'd smear the contents on exposed skin to protect it from the freezing wind and penetrating chill. Han remembers the smell of it and the greasiness on his face that lingered even after scrubbing. It's perfect for what they need but Han knows there's no way to hide the memories it'll bring back. He wonders if Luke realizes that.

Luke's moved back onto the bed and now he's behind Han, wrapping an arm around Han's waist. The spontaneous warmth of the gesture takes Han by surprise though it shouldn't, because showing affection comes naturally to Luke. It's just that lately it's been missing, at least towards Han. He touches Luke's fingers with his own and tries not to read too much into it.

There are stronger currents of emotion running beneath the affection, and the brush of Luke's lips against the side of Han's face is full of a desire that's still unanswered. Han twists his head round to find Luke's mouth, reaching up with a hand to thread his fingers into Luke's hair. He's fooled himself into thinking he's tamed the well of longing inside but, just like before, Luke proves him wrong. 

"Still wanna do this?" Han asks, when they break the kiss. His voice sounds rough and ragged to his own ears.

"Yes."

Taken over again, Han presses Luke down onto the bed, inhaling the contradictory scents of soap and sweat that cling to his body. He reaches for the jar and prizes open the lid. The well-known, pungent aroma drifts from it and images from Hoth flood his mind. The over-ripe smell of the tauntaun pens. Struggling into heavy, outdoor clothing. Tossing a resigned grin at Luke before braving the howling gale of a daytime storm. 

For a moment Han thinks he sees a distant look in Luke's eyes, as if his mind is back in the frozen wasteland of the far-flung planet. But the candlelight is failing fast and Han can't know for sure.

The heat of Oryllin has turned the balm into a semi-opaque, viscous liquid that clings to his hand when he scoops it from the jar. He presses a coated finger inside Luke, and the sharp inhalation Luke takes causes his own breath to hitch deep in his throat. He tries to take it slowly but he's up against the urging of his body and Luke's heedless, impetuous side that compels Han to be less than careful.

When he pushes into Luke he knows it's too much, too soon, but Luke's not about to let him go. Han feels Luke's tension permeating into his own body, tightening his muscles in protest. Or maybe it's the other way round. That his anxiety that he might not make this work is smothering them both. Whatever the cause, he has to make things right.

Han grasps Luke's wrists, forcing his arms back onto the bed. He holds him there, pinning him down, his own pulse sounding a hectic rhythm in his head.

"Breathe!" The word snaps out of him, too much like a command but it's too late to take it back. 

Sweat has broken out across Luke's brow, and Han watches as it trickles its way slowly into Luke's eyes. With his hands restrained Luke's unable to prevent it and he blinks hard at the salty sting of it. Han leans down and brushes it away with his lips, drifting his mouth slowly across Luke's closed eyelids. It's an act of mute apology but it's also something else. A declaration that needs no words, and Han knows how much he's given away.

The proof is there when Luke's eyes fly open to reveal confusion sliding together with doubt. It makes Han wonder what Luke thought this would mean to him. A few moments of gratification as a way of offering moral support? Some fast and furious attempt to purge the past few months from their lives? Or maybe that Han agreed to this to prove his acceptance of the son of Vader? Whatever Luke first thought, Han knows he sees the reality of it now. 

He holds Luke's stare and waits. It probably seems like an ultimatum. That Luke takes him the only way Han's willing or not at all. He doesn't mean it like that – he'll do whatever Luke wants but he's not going to pretend it means less to him than it does. There's no room anymore for hiding the truth. How can there be, after all they've said tonight? 

"I didn't know..." Luke's voice is soft, but Han catches beneath it a trace of residual strain.

"So now you do."

Luke tugs a hand free from Han's grip and reaches for Han's face. It's a light touch, but far from casual. There's too much heat in Luke's fingertips, and too much need in the trail they make across Han's lips for it to signify rejection. "You could've told me."

"Didn't know how you'd feel about it," Han mutters.

Luke starts to smile. It begins with the slightest curve of his lips and slowly takes over the whole of his face, transforming him and wiping away the last of the tension. "Haven't you worked it out yet?" he asks. His hand curls around the back of Han's neck and he pulls Han down. "I love you," he says. "And I want you," he breathes against Han's lips, just before Han locks his mouth on Luke's.

It takes just moments for Han to lose himself and somewhere along the way he takes Luke with him. He knows it's working by the sounds Luke makes and the way he tightens his legs around Han's back. And Han's crossed another line. One that was stopping him from saying things he's always wanted to say. He says them now, watching the reactions that chase across Luke's face. And he tells Luke things. About how he wants to make Luke feel and what he wants to do to Luke. Explicit, carnal things that make Luke groan and arch against him. 

And finally, when he knows he's reaching the limit of his endurance, he holds Luke's legs, gripping him firmly behind the knees, and drives into him, deep and hard, until Luke's clenching his hands into the sheet beneath him, gasping and incoherent. In the end, Han isn't sure what Luke cries out when he comes, because he's drowning, abruptly and overwhelmingly, in the intensity of his own climax.

He's grounded by the shakiness he feels in Luke's legs and the realization that the deeper darkness means the candle has well and truly died. He also knows he can't do anything but collapse on top of Luke. He plants a kiss on the inside of Luke's thigh and disentangles their bodies, feeling like he's moving under water. Luke's lying there, dazed and immobile, and Han has to shift Luke's arm so he can curl up against Luke's side. He drapes his own arm across Luke and feels Luke's heartbeat thudding in his chest. He can't find the energy to speak and he wonders if he'll ever be able to move again. He lies there, listening to Luke's settling breaths and feeling his eyelids growing heavier. His last conscious thought tells him they've found a way to chase those shadows from Luke's eyes. 

***

It's still dark when Han awakes, though the faintest hint of brightening through the shutters tells him dawn isn't far off. It's oppressively humid in the room. And very empty. He pulls himself up to a sitting position and rubs at his face with the heel of a hand, trying to clear the heavy lethargy from his mind. A quick survey of his surroundings reveals Luke's holdall on the floor but no sign of his clothes.

Han drags himself out of bed. He's too hot and his skin is sticky with the residues of sex and sweat. The scent of Luke clings to him, along with the greasy remains of the Hoth balm. The combination is earthy, heady and already addictive. It also tells him that he needs a shower. He wraps the crumpled coverlet around him and sets off down the corridor. 

There are puddles of water on the floor of the 'fresher and an overhead faucet drips in one of the shower cubicles. Wherever Luke's vanished to, he's not been gone long. Han turns the water on, as cool as it will go, and lets it blast down over him until he thinks his body has reached a temperature approaching normal. He's forgotten to bring the liquid soap from Luke's locker but there's a half-empty bottle on the floor of the cubicle. When he opens it he realizes it's Luke's. It bears no comparison to the insipid, watery liquid the Alliance hands out to all its recruits. Instead, it's a thick, luxurious gel that seems at odds with Luke's general lack of extravagant possessions. But Han admits that it's kind of silly of him to think this way, especially after his late-night discovery of Luke's hunger for the sensual. He knows now that Luke engages in sex in the same way he engages in most things – with no holds barred – but that's not so unexpected to Han. It's the way Luke approached him last night that's really taken him by surprise. Han prides himself on his blunt, no-nonsense attitude to everything, but he has to admit that where Luke's concerned all that seems to fly out of the window. It was Luke who made the first move while Han just stood there trying to find his tongue. And it was Luke who took the gamble – another one of Han's supposed claims to fame. 

He breathes in the aroma of the gel, recalling the traces of its sharp, citrus scent on Luke's skin last night. The memory cuts through the remaining fog in his brain, and for the first time since waking he allows himself to think about today.

Because soon they'll go their separate ways. He's no idea what that means because he hasn't asked Luke. All he knows is that Luke's leaving to help re-build the communities of Kalssos, torn apart by the Empire because of their allegiance to the Jedi of the Old Republic. He doesn't know how long it'll take. Six months? A year? Forever? 

And Han will be going to Zinavora to rejoin Leia and Mon Mothma and the rest of the Alliance, and life will go on as usual. Except Han doesn't want 'as usual'. He wants what he had last night. He wants Luke in his life, with all his crazy ideas and uncanny ability to attract trouble. He wants him for all his mixed-up feelings and misplaced guilt. For his openness and empathy, and his idealism that just needs a little time to resurface in full. And he wants him for everything he's seen in the past few hours. For all that passion that left Han reeling and in a stupor for the remainder of the night.

When he turned down the track last night he told himself he should open his eyes. Face reality. But instead of wallowing in self-pity, he should've asked himself _why_ Luke was avoiding him. He should've known there's normally one of two possibilities for behavior like that. Either someone feels too little and they just can't be bothered anymore. Or they feel too much.

He stands under the dryer, the draught raising a shiver across his cooled flesh. Then he grabs the not-so-clean coverlet and trails back to the sleeping quarters. 

When he passes through the walkway into the older building it's like walking into a solid wall of heat. Perspiration breaks out across his face and chest and when he reaches Luke's room he's wondering why he bothered to shower in the first place. 

The shutters are wide open, letting fresher air into the room along with the pale orange glow of early sunrise. The swarms of dronebugs have disappeared, settling down into their daytime slumber in the shade of the trees. Luke's standing by the window looking fractionally less hot than Han. On the whole heat doesn't bother Luke much but the humidity is trying for all of them, even those who don't come from dry, dusty desert worlds.

"Hey," Han says.

Luke smiles back at him, the breaking light from the sky catching the side of his face. Han wonders how something that makes him feel so good can produce such an ache inside. 

"Where d'you go?"

"To the comm room," Luke replies. "I had some transmissions to make. I spoke to Leia."

Han nods. "It'll be difficult from Kalssos."

"Impossible, until their communication system's fixed up. And that's gonna take time."

"At least the Alliance is providing some of the equipment." Han's amazed by how calm he sounds, and how he's managing to have a rational conversation about the place that's going to take Luke away from him. But then Luke moves towards him and his rationality takes a step back.

"And I spoke to the Kalssonian Ambassador."

"Uh huh." Han catches the tiniest hint of citrus in the air. He doesn't know if it's from his own body or from Luke's, but it makes him think of moving his lips across Luke's abdomen. He's going to have association problems with the scent from now on.

"We've worked out a rough plan."

"Yeah?"

"Are you listening to me?"

"Sure," Han asserts. He's just not sure he wants to hear.

"No you're not." Luke wraps a hand around Han's neck and brushes a kiss against his mouth. "We've made some changes to the original one."

"Right," Han says. He slides his arms around Luke, holding him in place. "The original what?"

"Plan," Luke grins. "Pay attention."

"'That's what I'm tryin' to do." Han pushes a hand into Luke's hair and kisses him. He doesn't mean for it to be so prolonged or quite so full of all the things he knows he shouldn't say, but it ends up that way regardless. When he finally breaks it he speaks before he can think. "I don't want you to go."

Luke's got both his hands around Han's neck and he's running his fingers through the hair that grazes Han's nape. "I have to. I've made a commitment. I can't break my promise."

"Yeah, I know." Han's got no intention of prolonging the agony with a long list of counter-arguments, even though he has to force himself to refrain from voicing them. "I know it's important to you too," he adds. "'Cause of the Jedi thing."

Luke gives a quiet smile. "Yes, it's important, but so are a lot of other things. I'm not just going to turn my back on everything else. The Kalssonians understand that."

"Is that what you talked to the Ambassador about?"

"Sort of. Mon Mothma's spoken to her a few times already so she knows what the situation is. She told her she's getting hundreds of requests a day from worlds wanting help and she can't promise long-term assistance from the Alliance."

Han frowns. "But you're leaving the Alliance. What's it gotta do with Mon Mothma how long you stay on Kalssos?"

"It was a leave of absence, not a goodbye. I told you that." Luke's lips touch Han's again, briefly.

"I figured it was the same thing," Han says. Belatedly, he picks up on the single incongruous word that Luke's used. "Was?"

Han's com-link starts an insistent beeping from somewhere in the room. He glances around, spotting the crumpled up mound on the floor that constitutes his clothes. 

"You gonna get that?" Luke asks, already extricating himself from Han's arms.

"It can wait. I wanna know what's goin' on."

"Mon Mothma contacted me last week. She wanted to know if I'd be willing to undertake the visit to Kalssos as part of an Alliance assignment rather than go unofficially. Then there'd be no need for a leave of absence."

Han tries to ignore the small flurry of hope that's stirring inside him and keeps his questions casual. "Why the change of heart? I thought she said she couldn't swing an official visit?"

"The Kalssonians are offering to send a number of med-droids to Zinavora in exchange for a small Alliance team. Admiral Ackbar's pushing for it because the medical frigates haven't got anywhere near enough droids."

"It's news to me," Han says.

"Because it's still at the negotiating stage. Or it was, before today."

"You spoke to Mon Mothma this morning?"

Luke nods, then leans back against the open window. The smallest of breezes has got up and Han sees it stirring Luke's hair. It's a precursor to the strong, searing winds that blow in daily from the southern quadrant and make the environment of Oryllin even more inhospitable than it already is. 

"I knew I wanted to say yes but I didn't know if it was still possible," Luke explains. "The Kalssonians were happy with the exchange but I wasn't sure if they realized it included me."

"They're okay with that?"

"Yeah, more-or-less." Luke pushes away from the window and walks up to Han. His hands come up to frame Han's face. "The Alliance team's gonna stay until the Kalssonians have rebuilt their defenses. It'll probably take a few months. I'll have to stay a bit longer than that though."

"A few months is better 'n a few years," Han mutters. The small flurry of hope has turned to something akin to a snowstorm. He moves his face to kiss one of Luke's palms. "I can't wait that long 'cause I still want the long answer."

Luke gives him a perplexed look. "What long answer?"

"Last night I asked you if you'd come to terms with things. You know..."

Comprehension flashes in Luke's eyes. "Vader, you mean."

"Yeah. You said the short answer was yes. Which means there's a long answer and I know it's not gonna be simple. We've still got a lot to talk about."

"No, it isn't simple. There's so much I'm not even certain about myself."

"Must be some things you're never gonna know. With Vader dead..."

"I know. And I know nothing about the Jedi really. Yoda told me very little and that bothered me at first. Now I think he meant it that way. He wanted me to create my own future, not tie me to the past."

"But what about telling other people about Vader?" Han asks. "You're still gonna be living with secrets if you don't."

Luke nods. "People need to know. Not just because I want to be open about it but because it's important. He killed the Emperor and I want everyone to know that. Not because I expect anyone to see him differently – he still did what he did."

"Just because it's the truth," Han says.

Luke gives another nod, more thoughtful this time. "We need to decide how to do it though. Leia's right about the Alliance and it being early days. And first we need to tell our friends."

"Maybe I can help out," Han suggests.

"You already have." Luke strokes the knuckles of his hand down Han's cheek. "You're the one person I _had_ to tell. It's made a big difference." Luke's eyes take on a faraway look for a moment before he focuses his gaze back on Han. "The hardest thing's been to keep hold of my past. Sometimes I feel... disconnected. Like my life before now hasn't been real. I had this picture in my head for so long. For all the time I was growing up on Tatooine. My father was dead, but he'd been a good man. Someone who would've cared for me if he'd lived. My Aunt and Uncle built that image up for me and Ben added to it, turning my father into a hero of the Republic." 

"And now you've gotta reconcile that picture with the real thing."

"I thought... because I'd never known my father it'd help. But it doesn't work like that. Everything's tied up with everything else. It's meant re-examining everything in my life. It's the same for Leia. She's not exactly had good experiences of Vader."

Han grimaces. "I think I'd be in denial."

"I was at first. Or I tried to be. It didn't work because I knew it was true as soon as he told me." He flashes a sudden grin at Han. "Simple tricks and nonsense, you know."

"Hey, I've come a long way since then," Han protests. "You've gotta admit that."

"Oh, I do. And by the way, because I'll be going to Kalssos on Alliance time Mon Mothma wants regular reports."

Han can feel the smile starting on his face. "You'll have to fly back to make 'em then. Communications ain't gonna work from there, like you said."

"No," Luke agrees. "Or she might want to send someone out to check on progress instead."

"Y'know, checkin' on progress is one of my specialties."

"Really?" Luke's hands have moved back to Han's neck. "What are the rest?"

Hans smile widens into a grin. "Gonna take too long to describe 'em all. Dunno how much time you've got."

"I'm not leaving till this evening. I've got to talk to General Madine about getting a squad together."

Han pulls a face. "Lucky you."

"What about you? Aren't you supervising the move out?" 

Han grabs hold of one of Luke's wrists, twists it a little to read Luke's chrono, then gives out a short, sharp curse. "I'm s'pposed to be there in 15 minutes. And if I don't turn up an angry Wookiee's gonna come lookin' for me."

"You'd better shut the door then," Luke suggests.

"Uh... why?"

"So he can't find you."

Han swallows. "You mean I'm gonna be late?"

Luke's fingers take a hold of the not-very-secure knot that's keeping the coverlet fastened round Han's waist. "Yeah. Very late."

Han's not about to disagree. Instead he reacts in the only way possible, by winding his arms around Luke and seeking out Luke's mouth with his own. And, just like last night, he manages two clear thoughts before he abandons himself to the kiss. First, that the ground crew will probably end up moving everything out by themselves. And secondly, that Luke's going to take him by surprise all over again.

~end~


End file.
